


Remarkable, my dear Belladonna!

by AquitaineQueen24



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A whole lot of dreams, F/M, Growing up in Tookland, Intergenerational friendship, Roadtrip, Running off to have adventures, Sort of love story for the ages, and dwarves, and rangers, runaway not quite bride, there may be elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquitaineQueen24/pseuds/AquitaineQueen24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello again, Gandalf," Belladonna says, pushing herself up off the bundle of Old Toby. "I hate to ask, but could you go even faster than this? Bungo's trying to ask me to marry him." </p><p>Being a look into the early life and times of Bilbo Baggins's famous and remarkable mother, Belladonna Took; adventurer, eccentric and maker of a lasting impression on not only one Mr Bungo Baggins, but also one Gandalf the Grey - who knew her longer, so there - as she tries to decide whether this latest adventure with a very old friend will be her last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From a hole in the ground, there fled a hobbit.

 

* * *

_Back then_

* * *

When Gerontius presented Gandalf with yet another squirming bundle upon showing up in his garden after a long absence, the wizard had to bite back a remark about his friend’s potency.

Since this was _Gerontius,_ after all, the hobbit could no doubt guess what he was thinking in any case, and far from being offended would take it as a compliment. Adamanta, however, watching nervously from her chair under the shade of the great tree, might not be so amused; so wizard and hobbit merely smiled as Gandalf took the newest baby up into his arms and Gerontius stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, near swelling to bursting with pleasure and pride.

“Say hello to Gandalf, Belladonna,” he said to his newest daughter, and “Isn’t she _beautiful?”_ he added to Gandalf.

Gandalf hastened to assure him that in all his time upon this Middle-Earth, he had never seen a fairer infant. True, he had said more or less the same of any one of Gerontius’s children…or indeed any child he had ever had the privilege to be allowed near, children being wondrous no matter if they were born of Men or Dwarves, in multitudes when it came to Hobbits or so very rarely, now, when it came to Elves.

 _This little lady, though,_ the wizard mused as she yawned and blinked up at him, _might leave them all in the shade, if only for the present._

“A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Belladonna Took,” he told her solemnly, phrasing it in the Common Tongue for Adamanta’s peace of mind. Not that Adamanta was the silly sort who’d be up in arms if she so much as heard a syllable of Elvish, but Gerontius’s Chubb bride had always been faintly apprehensive of the unknown - and of him, for that matter, though he could really hardly blame her for that. But, she’d always been sincerely gracious and welcoming as well, and what more could a person ask for in this age of the world?

He could see she was already twitching to hold her child again, so Gandalf sighed and reluctantly gave Belladonna back to her father, and through him to her mother.

“We must have a party,” Gerontius said as soon as Belladonna was quite secure in her mother’s embrace, “to celebrate your return!” and he was already waving his arms about as he planned the beginnings of the gathering that would be taking place this very night, if Gandalf was any judge; then dashing off with a “Be right back!” to the three of them as he set off to collar the hapless innocents he’d need to bring his plans about.

Adamanta sighed in loving exasperation, shaking her head before remembering her guest and smiling up at him. “Won’t you sit down, Mister Gandalf sir? Shall I ring the bell for more tea?” Her hand was already reaching for the bell in question, to summon one of the maids from the house.

“It would be much appreciated, thank you,” he assured her, right before several somethings (most like at least three of her sons) hit him in the back of the knees and all but knocked him to the ground with many cries of “Gandalf Gandalf _Gandalf!”_

Which, inevitably, started Belladonna screaming. In addition to being the fairest infant he could ever remember encountering at the present moment, she surely also had the largest lungs.

* * *

 

  _Here and Now_

* * *

Belladonna knows that all the usual escape routes are likely to be watched; a quick peek out of the window confirms that there are plenty of her brothers and cousins standing about innocently on the pavement, so a mad dash for the road or the woods is out of the question.

“This is very unfair,” she says aloud to Brockle the cat, “and completely ridiculous.”

Brockle just sits and washes his face; she groans and drags her fingers down her own.

“Springing this on somebody like that,” she adds, getting up to pace. “It’s just so rude!”

They’ll have made sure to not leave so much as a scrap of food out that she can take, not a walking stick or a cloak, she’ll bet they’d have locked all the doors and windows if it wouldn’t look suspicious – actually, they probably _have_ except for the front door and the back door. “Prisoner in my own home,” she mutters, digging her nails into her arms. “I hate you all.”

Still, she makes her way to the back door. It’s the most obvious choice, which is why they’ll hopefully expect that this time she won’t choose it, and there’ll be somebody she can bribe. With _what_ exactly she doesn’t know yet, but there must be something, because she can’t stay here a moment longer.

But today is not her day because Isumbras is leaning right across the open doorway, eating an apple. “Sorry, sis,” he says with his mouth full, not looking particularly sorry at all.

“Traitor,” she says, turning back towards the parlour. “I can’t believe you think this is **funny.”** _Pot kettle black,_ she admits to herself, if this were happening to anyone else than her, anyone at all, it’d be hilarious. But it is happening to her and she feels sick. She stops in the front hall, looking directly at the front door – which might not be locked. Might not be. If this doesn’t work she’ll have to barricade herself in the attics and refuse to come down, but until then…

She ties her hair back with an extra ribbon so as not to give them something lagging to get a painful grip on. She tucks up the skirts of that oh so pretty dress Mama insisted she wear today, should have been suspicious about that from the start. She creeps to the door, grabs the handle and yanks it open and bursts into the burning sunlight.

Luck is with her, speed is with her, whoever it was standing guard falls backwards with a yelp – _Wait, I think that was Bungo, oh **oops**_ \- and she says “Sorry” very quick, leaps over him and is off, fast fast _fast_ down the great paved way to the main road with what seems like the whole of Tuckborough chasing after her, once they’ve gotten over their surprise.

 _So, I’m out, what do I do now?_ For now she can keep running until they collar her and wait until Bungo can catch up, _duck and dodge,_ assuming he can get up after she dumped him onto the floor like that, faster faster, goodness what if he broke his skull oh drat wait, _cart, cart, Gandalf hasn’t quite left yet, Gandalf Gandalf!!!_

She leaps and yanks herself onto the back of it, screaming for him to go faster and, bless him, he doesn’t start in surprise or curse or stop the cart altogether, he just whispers something and the horse goes from a walk to a canter. She looks around and sees Bungo somehow right at the front of her pursuers looking very confused and red faced, and it only occurs to her _now_ what a nasty thing she’s doing to him; she almost jumps off the cart and runs back to him to say “Sorry” again and beg his forgiveness.

She stays clinging to the cart but she does do those last two things, shouting “I do love you, really I do, I just need some time to think, I’ll tell you when I get back,” and just as she says that the cart jolts so that she goes head over heels, no doubt giving Bungo and everyone else in the immediate vicinity a fair flash of petticoats, and lands right on the food supplies and other things Papa gave Gandalf only this morning.

She squints at the blue above and tries to get her breath back as the shouts fade away behind her. It was hard to tell but she thinks Bungo was smiling, although it didn’t look like a very happy one. _Well done, Bella, oh well done indeed, any other hearts you’d like to rip out and stamp on today?_

Then Gandalf says, turning, “Belladonna Took, _what_ in,” and gets no further, staring at the crowd they are hopefully leaving very much in the dust. Although, really, how could he _not_ have heard all those people shouting and yelling before now?

“Hello again, Gandalf,” Belladonna says, pushing herself up off the bundle of Old Toby. “I hate to ask, but could you go even faster than this? Bungo’s trying to ask me to marry him.”

“Ah.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret to inform you that this story will be taking place in three different time frames, with an inevitable fourth one showing up soon. These present three time frames shall hereafter be known as:
> 
> In Elder Days: aka a really, really long time ago. As in, before the world used to exist and moving ever forwards from that point, albeit with a narrative jumping all over the place, chronologically. Will be intentionally spacey and vague since, hey, they're dreams/memories and since when have either of THOSE made any sense? Keep your wits about you.
> 
> Back Then: aka not nearly as long ago as The Elder Days. More like twenty eight years ago and moving ever forwards in a far more chronological order, albeit with some snippets taken from all over the timeline to shove at the end of the dream segments.
> 
> Here and Now: aka the ever present...present. In which Bella is angsty and conflicted but still manages to have a wonderful time.
> 
> Fret not; all segments shall be sign posted accordingly!


	2. She lightly fled on dancing feet

 

* * *

_In Elder Days_

* * *

This night you dream of Olórin again, or really you remember;

in the end it’s the same thing, so much of Olórin is…

…no, not lost, but still he's denied to you, he might as well be just a dream,

but who you are is not what you can do, you are yourself, in this form or any other,

but still Olórin’s so long ago, at times he’s like

a person in a song you heard that sometimes you forget…

tonight, though, you remember when he watched the dance

of Nessa on the glowing lawns, when Tulkas sprang

to join her in that wedding waltz;

Olórin laughed with so much joy it hurts now,

thinking of the times before the falls

_(so many falls)_

and all those that deserved that blessed time,

that joy, that light, that dance

and never had a chance.

* * *

And, when he’s woken up in some time a bit before the now:

“ 'morning, Mister Gandalf, you sleep well?”

“Oh, tolerably well, Miss Took.”

“D'you have a dream? I dreamed about a rabbit, it had a hat and waistcoat on!”

“Ah. Well, I dreamed of dancing deer, in the light of a lamp.”

* * *

  _Here and now_  


* * *

Gandalf waits for her to get her breath quite back before he slows the cart down a tad and speaks again, and then only to say, “You should sit up here, Bella.” When Gandalf uses _that_ tone of voice it's best to hop to it, so Belladonna scrambles over the parcels and boxes and clambers up to huddle on the seat beside him.

“Thank you, Gandalf,” she tries at length.

“Never mind that, Bella. You had better tell me what happened, and whether I should expect to be greeted with pitchforks the next time I happen to come by this corner of the world.” The eye she can see has a twinkle in it, there’s that at least. “And…I will admit, I am curious. What exactly was it that Bungo Baggins _did_ , to make _you_ of all Hobbits run screaming in fear from a proposal?”

She huffs and thrusts back her shoulders, trying to ignore the growing fire in her cheeks and the sick feeling starting up again in her belly. “I was not _screaming,_ in fear or in anything else-”

“Indeed.”

“-and he hasn’t actually asked me. Yet. He hasn’t asked me yet, so at least they, uh, can’t say I turned him down.” She realises she’s cracking her knuckles and stops. “Er. I was, after you left this morning I’d sort of gotten myself dressed up on Mama’s say so. As. As you can see.”

She fumbles at the dress and tries to carry on. “And then she told me to sit in the parlour. Which was rather silly, I could look out and see everyone coming up the path and, and Bungo was with them. In his best. And I got suspicious, and I got even more suspicious when he started looking scared and wouldn’t come in straight away, he must have seen me looking. He walked a way away and I realised, he was trying to get up the courage to…”

Gandalf turns to give her another look, one eyebrow raised. He says nothing. The silence is oh so awkward and big, and growing ever bigger.

“Oh, _noooo,”_ she moans at last, and starts cracking her knuckles again in sheer horror. “I’m an idiot. I’m _such_ an idiot, oh _why_ did I do that?”

“It is not within the realm of my power to say,” Gandalf mutters.

“I had all of Tuckborough running after me. They’ll never be able to cover _this_ up.”

“It is unlikely.”

“Mama will _never_ forgive me.”

“Quite probably, knowing Adamanta.”

“Papa _may_ forgive me? In time?” She’s grasping at straws and threads by now.

“Gerontius is, I do not doubt, laughing himself sick; I can assure you of that.”

“Bungo…” She stops cracking knuckles only so she can tug and worry her hair. “What must he _think_ of me?”

“Ah. I cannot answer that, my dear Bella.” He squeezes her shoulder, the reaches up to pull her hand away from her curls with an “And _stop_ that.”

What can she do? She’s burned her bridges this time, good and proper. He might not even have been going to propose anyway. She’d just made yet another _bloody_ assumption and hurt him horribly, in his heart and pride. And now he’ll go back to Hobbiton and marry someone else and she’ll never see him again, or at least not in the way she’s grown used to and enjoyed and loved so much. If only…

Her eyes hurt and start leaking; she has to sniff to keep back the tide. _If only, if only, if only_ pulses in her throat and temples.

“I’ll get off here,” she says at last, as they’re passing through the woods where she buried her special box with the extra clothes and the rations and whatnot, in case she ever felt like slipping off. She jumps down and is halfway to where she remembers the spot is before realising she can’t hear the cart moving anymore.

She turns around to meet Gandalf’s steady gaze from where he’s stopped the horse. The urge takes her. What’s one more leap before she thinks?

“Gandalf? I am going on an adventure, d’you want to come with me?”


	3. If you don't keep your feet

 

 

_Back then_

* * *

Whenever Gandalf clapped his eyes on Hildifons these days, the little chap always seemed to have a stick in his hand – and on one memorable occasion a table knife, before it had been taken off him – as he ran about shouting for everyone to look at him, look at him. Today he was loudly proclaiming that he was the king, any king, who was going to defend the Shire from all invaders. With regular reminders for them to “Look at me!!!”

Gandalf and Gerontius, smoking some excellent Longbottom Leaf, were always ready to assure the lad that they were watching him very closely indeed. There were far fewer assurances from Adamanta, trying as she was to divide her attention between Hildigard’s attempts at embroidery, Isembard and Hildibrand fighting over their toys while a nursemaid fretted over them, and Belladonna as she gurgled on the rug spread out on the grass beside her mother’s chair and tried to get her toes into her mouth.

“Isengrim’s studying, but the older boys are off somewhere else,” Gerontius muttered. “Poor little beggar gets left out, often as not. I shall have to make sure I keep those boys in line. Seven boys, Gandalf, it does wear on a body! Dear Hilgi,” gesturing to his elder daughter with the stem of his pipe, “was very left out sometimes as well. It’s sad that she had to wait so long for a little sister.”

While Gerontius practised his smoke rings, Gandalf could see the annoyance grow on ‘dear’ Hildigard’s face as her brother grew louder in his play; annoyance which looked as if it sat upon her brow all too often. “ _Maaaa_ ma, Hilfi won’t _stop_ it,” he heard the lass whine at last, putting her sewing down rather roughly. “Tell him to go and play somewhere else!”

Adamanta sighed, perhaps not loud enough for her daughter to hear, but not near quiet enough to escape him. “Hilfi, love," she called, "you need to quiet down a little-”

 _“Hilfi,”_ Hildigard shouted over her mother, clearly despairing of her ability to get the job done, “why don’t you go and play with the others?”

“Don’t want to,” the boy shot back quick as winking, “they never let me be _anyone_ fun, they never want to play what _I_ want. They say, they say _they’re_ older so they get to play all the good things!”

“Hildifons, don’t be so loud-”

“Then go and play somewhere else,” Hildigard retorted, again shouting over Adamanta. “You’re always too loud, you _always_ are!”

Gandalf wondered if he should say something. Wondered, but chose not to. Adamanta and Hildigard would surely not thank a wizard for intervening, no matter how much they might or might not like him. Gerontius, meanwhile, groaned and started forwards to intervene, all his former contentment forgotten as real life intruded into this paradise.

 _“I’m the king,”_ the boy was shouting back even louder, singing tunelessly, _“I’m the_ king, _I can be loud as I like, I’m the king of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal!”_

He heard Adamanta sigh again, about to jump back into the fray. That pause was fatal; Hildigard seemed to take it as a sign of surrender. All of a sudden the girl leapt up, threw her sewing back into the basket the maids had lugged out here earlier, make another noise that might as well have been irritation personified and started back towards the Smials, ignoring all of Adamanta’s calls to come back.

“Leave her, dear,” Gerontius advised even as his wife began to lever herself out of her own chair, “she’s been simmering all morning. I’m surprised it took this long for her to blow up in our faces.”

“I don’t know what’s got into her these days, Gerontius,” Adamanta said, disregarding him as she got up fully. “She seems to snap at anything I say. Goodness knows _I_ was never like that at nineteen!”

“Hilgi’s snapping? She a dragon?” Hildifons shouted, running up between Gandalf and his father and looking far too excited at the prospect of slaying his sister.

“No, she isn’t. Hildifons, stay here,” his mother said, giving him a sharp look so that he knew he was in disgrace. “Gerontius, Master Gandalf, watch over the babies, if you please. And, Gerontius, talk to your son," she added, striding out of the dappled shade and into the sunshine, going quickly after her daughter.

“Ah. Hildifons, come here.” Gerontius sat down on what suddenly might as well have been his throne instead of one of the garden chairs, as Hildifons crept to stand in front of it, narrowly avoiding treading on Belladonna’s blanket. “You were very rude just now. When your mother or I ask you to do something, what do we expect you to do?” He tilted his head as the boy hesitated. “Well?”

“Listen and obey,” Hildifons muttered.

“And _did_ you listen and obey just now?”

“I _listened.”_

“Hildifons, I know it’s not any fun when your brothers won’t play with you. I’ll be having a word with them later about that. But Hildigard and your mother were _working_ on something and wanted quiet, and Belladonna might well have been sleeping, and they were in this part of the garden first, after all. They have every right to be annoyed. If you were trying to get to sleep and Hilgi was making a lot of noise, wouldn’t _you_ want her to be quiet?”

“ ‘s, papa,” Hildifons said, his voice very small.

“I’m happy for you to play as _much_ as you like, but when your mother or I ask you to be quieter, what will you do from now on?”

“B’quieter,” came the mumbled reply.

“Good. Come up here, m’boy,” Gerontius added, softening and holding out his hands. The boy promptly dropped the stick and scrambled up into his lap. “It’s all right now,” he said, putting his arms about him and rocking gently, “I’m not angry, but you must apologise to Hilgi later on.”

“Yes, papa.”

“And I’ll be having words with her as well, don’t you worry.” He looked up over his head to where Gandalf stood observing, and groaned. “Sit _down,_ Gandalf, or I’ll sprain my neck before too long. Not on the chair,” he added hastily, “wouldn’t take your weight. On the ground.”

Even before he’d obeyed and was seated comfortably on the grass, Hildifons was scrambling out of his father’s arms and over to sit next to the great and far more interesting wizard, while Gerontius eased himself up and went to check on the younger boys. Boy and wizard both watched Belladonna roll around on the blanket, still steadfastly trying to gnaw on her toes and clearly having a marvellous time doing it.

“She wants something to _chew,”_ Hildifons said, with the air of conferring ancient wisdom upon the foolish Big Person he was sitting beside. “ ‘f you give her your finger, she’ll put it in her mouth right away and gum on it and drool everywhere. Go on, do it!”

“But my fingers have been dabbling in things that are far from fit to put in your sister’s mouth,” Gandalf told him, watching in not a little fascination as Belladonna left off nibbling her toes and began trying to fit her whole fist in her mouth. “And even if they were clean, I doubt she’d like the taste of wizard.”

Hildifons shrugged. “Oh. Bella, Bella!” He waved at the baby girl; her eyes were drawn to the movement and her hand dropped from her mouth as she smiled. “She likes _me_ best,” he said proudly, reaching out to slip his hands under her back and support her neck, clearly remembering how he’d been instructed to hold babies before. “She always smiles whenever she sees me. Bella, this is Gandalf!” he said, letting her rest against his chest and turning her towards the wizard.

The baby’s smile shrank to a puzzled look, and he thought to move further backwards in case he was frightening her – but then, oh _then,_ such a wonderful wide smile came back! Her whole face was drawn into her delight as her mouth opened wide, her cheeks grew plump and her eyes half closed.

He felt his old man’s heart pick up speed as he leaned forward again.

“Ag,” she said as she reached out for him, her shiny fingers beckoning him closer, “ag, _ag!”_

“You can hold her,” Hildifons said, lifting her gently forward, “if you’re careful. She likes you too. D’you know any good stories ‘bout kings?”

* * *

 

 

_Here and now_

* * *

Gandalf says nothing to her offer, but he descends to help her unearth the box and watches the horizon on occasion as she pulls off the various layers of the oh so pretty dress, replacing them with the fewer layers of her travelling clothes.

“ _Do_ you want to come with me, Gandalf?” she asks at length, buttoning up the front of her bodice. “It would be lovely to have you along.”

“It would depend very much, Bella, on where you plan to be going. I have other things that require my attention besides your latest adventure.”

“And yet you spent nearly a month enjoying the bounty of the pantries and cellars of the Smials, and smoking all of Papa’s pipeweed. Yes, the world really is in peril without your aid.” She tries again to fold the petticoats so that they will fit in the box and again is thwarted. “But, if you have tasks that must be fulfilled, don’t let me stop you. If you could possibly take me to the edge of the Shire, I’ll be on my way and you’ll be on yours.”

“Bella, where _would_ you be going?”

“Oh, all over the place. I might try to find the Rangers, say hello. I’d probably fail miserably, but at least I’d have tried.” She lets her hair loose, shakes it out, ties it up again with a few extra ribbons and strings she also left in the box; keeps it out of the way, and also means she’ll have less chance to pull more of it out. “Most like I’ll end up in Rivendell, I always seem to end up there. I could wait for you to show up, in time; somehow _you_ always seem to end up there as well.”

“And what then?” Gandalf’s sat down on a rotting log by this point, staring at her through his bushy eyebrows. “Will you remain in The Last Homely House, forever among the Elves? Or will you spend the rest of your life wandering in the wilderness, Belladonna? Shake the Shire from your feet and simply disappear, without nary a word home?”

That hurts. He meant it to, of course, perhaps he even meant it to hurt just like this. She gasps from it and feels an utter fool, but that doesn’t stop the pain and the shame. “I wouldn’t do that. In fact, I’m going to write a letter right now!” She just so happened to pack a paper and pencil in the box as well, in case she felt the need to send a note detailing when she’d be back, before she slipped off.

Sending letters home, reassuring and promising, has become very important now.

“Good. I'm very glad to hear it.” Gandalf gets up again. “As to any adventures you propose to have, you’re welcome to come with me to Bree, and after that wherever you will.”

Knowing that he doesn’t want to spend any more time with her than necessary, that hurts too. She really just shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today, she should never even have woken up. Still, he has things to do and places to go that are more important that her running away from Bungo possibly proposing, or fooling about in the wilds. So she doesn’t say how strange it is that _he,_ of all people and after all this time, is suddenly trying to put her off adventures, and she does her best not to start cracking her knuckles again because then he’d definitely have something to use against her if they argued.

“I’d better get started on that, _those_ letters.” She’ll have to write one to Bungo too, oh _no._ Two apologetic letters in one sitting! Her stomach squirms to think of it.

“The day’s growing ever older, and we must be on the move. You can write them in the cart.”

“True, that,” she says, as she gives up and stuffs the petticoats into the box on top of the pieces of her dress, willy nilly, and still manages to get the lid down. She considers accusing Gandalf of using magic on the whole affair while she wasn’t looking, there doesn’t seem to be any other reason why that should have worked. “I’ll have to plan them out beforehand. I wish I was like a poet, any poet, writing beautiful things right off the bat!”

Gandalf helps her to bury the box again as well, and pats her on the shoulder before they head back to the cart. It does _not_ feel like a funeral, not at all, drat it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The general theory is that Hobbits age at two thirds the rate humans do; considering they come of age at thirty-three, in our terms they’d be about twenty-two. So for example Hildigard, while she’s nineteen, is the Hobbit equivalent of twelve or thirteen.  
> If I’ve got that wrong please correct me, but I’m pretty certain she gets terribly annoyed with her brothers no matter what age she is.


	4. Before the dawn he went away

 

* * *

_In Elder Days, back then_

* * *

_Oh,_ he thinks as Nienna smiles at Bella, his teacher reaching out to welcome his friend into her embrace, _I’m dreaming._

(It’s a good dream, so he doesn’t struggle against it.)

He bows again before Nienna, who smiles – again! - when Bella grins as she curtsies, and Gerontius, who’s also here in the waistcoat he wore at that last splendid birthday party, bows and asks if ‘M’lady would care to tread a measure?’

He lets Bella take his arm to pull him over to the walls, so that he can tell her things about the people and stories painted in each alcove.

He points to the ceiling, watching her awed joy at the thousands of stars spangled in Queen Varda’s hair.

He takes cups and gets wine for them both; she sips hers and makes a face while he remembers and savours the taste.

Bella lets him pull her out onto the floor where a Hobbiton tune (of all things) is starting up, to join the dancers taking their places.

He catches glimpses of faces he once knew – or who Olórin once knew, really, but also faces that blinked in and out of the time that he’s spent in this Third Age of the world. Elves, Dwarves, Ents, Men, Hobbits flash into his sight and away again as Bella laughs.

He can’t tell what height he is any longer, how strange that he can look her in the eye.

He’s flying out from Bella’s hands and she’s flying out from his until suddenly they’ve spilled on the floor, (not gasping for breath because it’s a good dream) and laughing, and Bella hugs him close.

They’re on their feet again and treading a measure that Olórin saw once, when she who is now Galadriel but who was once Artanis – and still is Artanis, and somewhere here, probably – danced with her eldest brother in the days of the Trees, all leaps and bounds. Gerontius joins them, swinging Nienna around as if she were a Hobbit lass, the Lady of Mercy still smiling.

Now they’re giving their feet a rest as they slump on a bench and he’s tired, his head’s resting on Bella’s shoulder and ever so slightly on her breast and she strokes his curls (curls? It’s a dream) humming as they watch the worlds and peoples go by.

_Let’s stay like this forever._

He doesn’t know how they got there, but Bella’s talking to someone else and he’s watching as Melkor reels in Mairon.

(In the world outside the dream, he can’t remember ever talking to Mairon. This does not mean they truly never spoke, merely that Olórin - that was - perhaps thought it was best that he - who is now - should not remember, lest the possibilities drive him mad with regret.)

Mairon is beautifully innocent and Melkor is beautifully not, and Mairon listens to Melkor with all his attention, with all his heart, and if anyone else was watching with the knowledge that…whoever he is right now, held, they’d see the Ainur is close to being lost.

Melkor’s hand reaches up to rest on Mairon’s shoulder. Fingers _squeeze._ Mairon’s eyes are near closed now in thought or lust, his lips parted, his face showing a trance of total willing surrender, of utter desire.

He’s gasping when Melkor releases him and sweeps away.

Mairon gapes after him.

This is a dream that’s turning from good to bad, but he squeezes Bella’s arm and steps away from her, toward Mairon.

He reaches Mairon just as the elder spirit turns to look at him, forcing a smile where smiles had always come easily before.

“Well met, little brother,” he says (they’re not kindred in that sense, he doesn’t think, not like Manwë and Melkor, but it’s a tender regard and it’s still there, there’s still hope)

“Brother, please, ware of Melkor.”

He grabs at Marion’s sleeve as the elder frowns, before he can turn away, why is Mairon so tall and he so small?

“Please don’t listen to him, don’t go with him, Mairon, please, listen to me, _he’ll destroy you_.”

Mairon is smiling more readily now but shaking his head, gently pulling his sleeve away,

“I thank you for your concern, little brother, truly I do,”

he slips away and runs,

“but my fate is my own.”

He calls shouts _screams_ after Mairon “He’ll destroy you and you’ll destroy everything, come back, come back, _come back.”_

* * *

When he wakes up that morning sore and near weeping, Bella comes over from where she’s cooking breakfast with some tea. She sits beside him for a while as they drink it, and pats him on the back as she remarks “I think it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mairon was Sauron's name before he entered Melkor's service. Did his corruption really happen like this? Who knows (unlikely, bless Tolkien's Catholic sensibilities) but it makes for an interesting image.


	5. Home is behind

* * *

  _Here and now_  


* * *

Gandalf tries not to make the cart jolt too greatly, but she still manages to tear a hole or two in the paper with her nib as she practises getting her hand as neat and flowing as it can be at this short notice.

"What shall I say?"

Gandalf, from the corner of her eye, shrugs and shakes his head. "These are your letters, Bella, not mine, and your adventure. You will have to choose, I'm afraid."

After that she shuts up and scribbles, until she has something she's happy with.

 

 

> _Dear Daddy,_
> 
> _I'm sorry about all the fuss that I caused - although I have to say you did deserve it somewhat, for springing it on me like that! Gandalf says hello again, and hopes he'll still be welcome next time he comes to visit and that he won't get hanged from something large enough to hold him. He specifically wants you to know that this wasn't planned between us in the slightest - for once -so please don't blame him. _
> 
> _I think you know why I bolted. If Bungo had had a chance to corner me and ask – I don't think it would have turned out well, no matter what I said. You understand, daddy? I needed time to think._
> 
> _I won't be gone for too long this time – I'm having an adventure. Perhaps one last adventure. _
> 
> _Don't worry, I'm always careful._
> 
> _I love you so much, daddy. Give my love to all the rest._
> 
> **_Bellie_ **

All right, the easiest one is done. Now the one for mother, oh _dear._

This one takes much, much longer.

 

 

> _Dear Mam,_
> 
> _I'm so sorry about what I did. I know all the things you want to say to me, and you have the right to every one of them. I was stupid, I was rude, I behaved abominably and I let you down completely. I've disappointed you. I'm sorry for that, mam._
> 
> _I'm not sorry that I ran, even if it's held over me ever afterwards. And me alone, for that's how it should be; I'm the one who bolted out the door, after all._
> 
> _Mother, I hope you can understand this; I couldn't have answered Bungo like that, standing in the front parlour feeling like a rat in a trap. Whether I'd said yes or no, my heart wouldn't have been in it and I'd have been angry at you all. It would have been utterly unfair to everyone, and most of all to Bungo. _
> 
> _I'll be back soon, mam. I am coming back, never fear; I'll send you word when I'm nearing home. _
> 
> _I love you so much._
> 
> **_Belladonna_ **

It isn't wonderful, but it'll have to do. She can't make it any better.

She stares at the last sheet of paper for some time, sighs and starts to write.

 

 

> _Bungo,_
> 
> _I am sorry._
> 
> _This is the third letter I've written today that starts off with apologies. This was by far the hardest one to write, because out of all the people that I've managed to upset today, you are the one that matters the very most to me._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _It's all very well for me to say that now, when I've proclaimed my so called love while running away from you and off into the wide yonder. But it remains the truth. I love you. _
> 
> _I love that you were brave enough to approach me at the start – do you remember? - and talk to me as no one else ever had. I love to be with you. I love when you choose me, above all other people, to spend your days with. I love sitting and talking with you, discussing everything under the Sun. I love how you put up with my stories and interrupt in all the right places. I love dancing with you, how happy it makes us. I love how you tell me things I didn't know, and explain them. I love that I can make you laugh. I love that I make you happy. I love the way you look at the world. I love you, Bungo. I love you._
> 
> _But there are other things that I love as well, that I could never find in Hobbiton. And when I thought of having to move beyond what I had always taken for granted – that I could go on all my adventures and come back to you again, without having to choose one or the other – I was afraid. I was a coward. So, I ran._
> 
> _I've run off to those other things again, and in doing that I've hurt you. I ran when I should at least have had the courtesy to hear you out, and to consider an offer that I should have been ecstatic to accept – if I had any sense._
> 
> _You deserve far better than a selfish, foolish child, that leaves such a broken mess in her wake. You are the best of friends, the best of hobbits, and truly I think that there's no other gentle-hobbit – more than that, no other hobbit in the world \- I'd want to marry but you. _
> 
> _And yet._
> 
> _And yet._
> 
> _B_ _y doing this I know that I have, in all likelihood, lost your good opinion forever. Of all the mistakes I've ever made - and there have been a fair few – this has been by far my worst. What you think of me has come to matter perhaps more than anything else in the whole world._
> 
> _If you no longer wish to think of me or look for my return, I wouldn't blame you. But I love you, Bungo Baggins, I love you and whatever happens, whatever you decide, I always will. _
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _**Belladonna Took** _

That probably isn't going to get any better either, although it is really very abject. She seals it up as best she can, along with the others, and pops them into her satchel.

"All done," she announces, feeling like an idiot and more than a little weepy. Writing to Bungo took a lot out of her. And even after putting down everything she felt she could, there were things that she simply couldn't tell him. "Will we be sleeping in the cart tonight?" she adds. Ask a silly question, but who knows if there are other places Gandalf likes to stay in this part of Shire, besides her home? That's a thought to wake her up, that after twenty eight years of knowing Gandalf, she doesn't know something like _that._

"Yes. And you can cook dinner, my dear Belladonna; all this excitement has tired me greatly."

* * *

  _Meanwhile, back in the Shire..._  


* * *

Bungo turned to stride back up the hill towards the Smials when the cart was finally gone from view. The sight of the highly respectable, and currently rather dishevelled, Mr Baggins chasing after Miss Belladonna Took - with quite a number of her family in tow - had drawn a fair crowd. He rather suspected the hobbits about him were watching with some anticipation for further entertainment. Perhaps they waited to see if he would storm off in a rage, vowing never to return to Tuckborough as long as he lived - but if any of them had hoped that he would add to the disaster this day had become by behaving like a brattish tweenager, he would most certainly disappoint them.

Bella had shouted that she loved him, for everyone to hear. He was fairly certain that she meant what she said. But still…

He met Isembard half way back to the front door. He was holding an apple core and looking as if he didn't know whether to be confused or amused at the sight of his sister's bedraggled suitor and whoever might be following. "What happened?" he asked all of them, and then, to him in particular, "Has she bolted?"

He would _not_ behave like a brattish tweenager. This did not, however, mean that he would treat this all as a silly joke. _Bolted,_ indeed! "She left with Master Gandalf," he replied, and strode past as various brothers hissed at each other.

" _Honestly_ , Isembard!"

"What were you doing?"

"This is hardly _my_ fault! You told me to guard the _back_ door, how should _I_ know she'd charge out the front like that?"

Mr Baggins kept his eyes set on the Smials as he walked, straightening his waistcoat and brushing the dirt off his coat. There were more people flocking about him now, Mistress Took and the Miss Tooks asking him variations on the theme of 'Are you all right?' and 'Oh dear, your _coat_ , Mr Baggins!' and all with differing degrees of sincerity. But the voice that really got his attention was that of the Thain, as he said all at once "You'll need something restorative after that chase, I'll be bound, Mr Baggins; won't you come into the study with me?"

The large heavy hand came down on his shoulder, and he found that any response he might have had died in his throat as the Thain steered him through the doorway and into the blessed shade of the hall. The sun had caused his eyes to water so.

The next thing he was aware of was the glass the Thain pushed into his hand, as he was told to "Sit, Mr Baggins, please." He did sit, and sipped at what turned out to be some rather fine whiskey. He thought Gerontius would say something else, but it seemed the older hobbit preferred to sip at his own glass as he stared through the window in – roughly – the direction that his eldest daughter has fled.

Bungo took some time to finish the glass. This was the longest period of time he'd ever spent alone with his prospective father in law, and the whiskey was a welcome relief.

At last the Thain sighed, and turned away from the window. "How do you feel now, Mr Baggins?"

"Better than five minutes ago, sir, I do confess. But not by much."

"I must apologise for my daughter's behaviour, even if she will return in good time to make it herself. I hope that you might be willing to entertain such a possibility."

Bungo looked quickly to the wall so that he wouldn't stare at the Thain. This was the most enthused Gerontius had ever seemed to be about the possible match; ironic that his seeming approval should come now, when Bella had dumped him on the hall floor and raced away rather than even letting him ask.

And yet…

And yet…

He stood up, wishing he were that fraction taller so that he might be that touch more impressive. "Sir, there is no other lady in the Shire or out of it whom I could consider."

"Even after the riot of this morning?" The Thain sounded entirely too amused.

"…granted, if she came back this very evening - which I highly doubt – and was still uncertain, I would be quite angry." Angry did not quite cover it, _furious_ would be more appropriate, but Gerontius probably already knew that. "But, if she needs to go and learn her own mind about the possibility, best she does it thoroughly. My affections and wishes would not have changed."

Gerontius stared at him for a time, before he walked over and poured more whiskey for the both of them. "Then we shall have to hope that Bella will not take too long this time. Ah, you should have come to _me_ first, Mr Baggins, then perhaps all this would not have happened."

Bungo had paused with the whiskey half way to his lips. "I, ah, thought that she might not appreciate it if I asked you before her. Sir."

"True, but then I could have told you, and Adamanta as well and all the rest, that you were going about it all wrong. You backed her into a corner, and surely you know by now that Bella _hates_ to be pinned down to anything!"

Bungo had known that, as a matter of fact, _sir,_ but didn't quite dare to say it. His sudden decision to propose, made without considering what _Bella_ might make of the forces being marshalled to keep her from running away - how to explain to Bella, to her father, that it had been because he had dithered for over two years and never had the courage until now? And if this was the result…

All he said was, "I know better now." What was he going to do now? How to go back to Hobbiton and wait for her without arousing any further gossip, if that was even possible? And as for any scorn..good grief, what on earth would _Mother_ would say-

"Mr Baggins, might I invite you to stay in the Smials for a while? After the day you've just had, I believe you're in the need of a little peace and quiet." _Away from prying eyes and sharp tongues,_ the Thain's tone seemed to say, as if he'd read Bungo's mind. Or more like his face.

Bungo opened his mouth to protest that he couldn't possibly inconvenience them any further than he already had. Or perhaps to say something about the lack of propriety in staying with the family of the lady he'd failed to propose to. Half of whom would be generously commiserating with him, and the other half of whom seemed to wonder exactly what Bella saw in him in the first place anyway, and both halves quite probably coming to a very uncomfortable whole.

What came out was, to his great surprise, "I believe I should like that, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the brother guarding the backdoor in the first chapter from Isumbras to Isembard. Not quite sure why, it just felt right. Personally, I do hope to channel Pride and Prejudice through Bungo's whole story arc. This shall be fun.


End file.
